Brass & Unity, page 20
You’re the dummy who keeps suffering—by choice.
Brady and I sit in the candlelit glow of the Cactus Club Cafe in White Rock for dinner with Rick and Shelley. I take a bite of my salad and wash it down with a sip of sangria.
Everyone at the table is silently chewing at the moment, so I take the opportunity to blurt out my news. “I’m going to start a jewelry company!”
Without any hesitation, Brady looks over at me and says, “Okay, I’m in. What do you need?”
Shelley laughs, her dark blonde hair reflecting the candlelight. “Where did this come from? Why jewelry?”
“I’m not sure why, but I just have to do this. I think I’m on to something with these bracelets I’ve been making. There might be a way to donate proceeds to support veterans who are falling through the cracks.”
“That’s just wonderful.” Rick leans forward. “Do you know anything about starting a jewelry business?”
I take a drink to steel myself, but before I can answer, Brady says, “You know what would be cool, Roo? If you used a spent casing in the bracelets.”
“That is an amazing idea.”
“Do you have any?”
“Casings? Every shooting range in Canada and the U.S. has spent casings we could collect and recycle. They would just need to be cut and polished. That would look badass.”
“I think you’re on to something pretty special.” Brady raises his glass. “Let’s toast Kelsi.” We clink. The sound echoes through the room as if lighting a new idea, and their smiles extend toward me, my body feeling supercharged and my heart excited. This smile on my face is real. I’ve never been happier than I am in this moment. Maybe there is something to those crystals and stones after all.
After we get home and change into our pajamas, I curl up next to Brady on the couch. He puts his arm around me. “You really do have a great idea. If you want, I’ll help you build a website, and we can work on your brand. You’ve seen the kind of stuff I’ve done for my business.”
I turn my head and look up at him. “Do you really think it’s good enough? Do you think people will pay money for my bracelets?”
“I know they will.” His sharp eyes are shining. “It’s brilliant. You have the story and the idea, and I can help make it a business. Do you have a name in mind?”
“I think I want to call it Her Wearables.” I move in closer to him, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get the silly grin off my face.
***
Two weeks later, I’m at the kitchen table with a pile of beads and brass bullet casings spread out in front of me, putting together one of my newly designed Warrior bracelets. Every time I look at one, I feel stronger in my resolve to keep going because of how far I’ve come.
I finish tying one of them when there’s a knock at the door. “Hi, Rick! Brady’s not here right now, but come on in.”
“Actually, it’s you I want to see.” He enters the kitchen and takes a seat at my workbench/dinner table, the light shining off of his balding head.
“What’s up? Want a coffee or tea or anything?”
“No, I’m fine.” He doesn’t look at me as he says this. He’s distracted by my work area and the mess on the table.
I sit down beside him and start to tidy up.
He peers up at me over his glasses. “Kelsi, I think you have a really good idea here.”
“Thanks, Rick.”
“Brady told me about the Warrior bracelet, and I want to be the first person to buy one.”
“Don’t be silly. After everything you’ve done for me, I’ll give you one.”
“No, I will pay for it. You can’t operate a business by giving your product away.”
“Well, thank you! If you insist on paying for it, I’ll take your money but will donate it to a veteran’s charity.”
“It’s a deal. Tell me, where did the name come from?” Rick asks when I give him his bracelet.
“Well, I wanted a name that was connected to the military, and ‘warrior’ is a word that kept coming up. The casing on the bracelet is representative of being a warrior in your own life, no matter what your situation, and staying strong for your everyday life.”
“I know you’re going to be successful, Kelsi. Shelley and I are so proud of you.” When he passes me a couple of twenty-dollar bills, I take them in my hand and give him a big hug. “Thank you! I have friends who want some, but you’re my first official sale.”
While Brady works on the website and brand for Her Wearables, I start looking online for women’s stores in Vancouver that might carry the jewelry. One by one, I call the shops and ask for meetings, trying to get my foot in the door. It’s hard, but I don’t give up; this is where Army training serves me well.
For weeks I keep calling, one store at a time, until finally a woman on the other end of the phone doesn’t shut me right down. Instead, she sounds interested. “Sure, can you bring in your samples and a line sheet?”
“Of course I can,” I answer confidently, although I have no idea what a line sheet is. “When’s good for you?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Great! See you then.”
I have a lot to learn, but I catch on quick, and I’m driven to make this work.
The next day, I visit the store with my samples and line sheet, which, I learned, is basically a list of prices, and play it cool while the manager looks at my bracelets, trying some on.
I admire some of the sparkly jewelry and accessory displays, watching her out of the corner of my eye the entire time.
“Your Warrior bracelets are so edgy. They’re fantastic.”
“Thank you!” My stomach is in knots while I wait for her to make a decision.
“Can we try a few styles and see where it goes?”
“Sure.” I try my best to play it cool while suppressing the joy inside me. “That works for me.”
“I just love the shell casings.”
Suddenly, the metallic smell of hot brass fills my nose. As she runs her hands along the spent casing, my happiness fades and my brain locks. I stop listening. Her mouth moves, but in my mind, I am in Afghanistan, racing in to the grape hut and then holding onto Mick’s boot.
My brow furrows and my jaw is set, and there’s nothing I can do to bring my smile back. I’m still with the British, taking heavy fire as we try to get Mick’s body parts out of there. The shop manager can see that she’s lost me, and I want to sink into the ground and disappear. I’m a shell of the person I was just a few minutes ago.
I find the strength to leave some bracelets with her and finish the paperwork, but the moment I step out of the store, the same weight settles inside me. No matter how fast I walk, no matter how bright the sun, how promising the day, it doesn’t shift. I have just enough strength to reach my car. My head presses against the steering wheel, and I blink away the tears until they push through and I collapse. “I can’t keep living like this,” I sob. “I can’t do this anymore.”
What are you supposed to do when you don’t want to die, but you also don’t want to live?
Don’t Forget Me
You got a little arrogant there again, didn’t you?
I think you forgot who was calling the shots for
a minute.
Go ahead and pretend you’re okay, if that’s how
you want to play this.
We both know the truth.
You can’t take much more, can you?
TWENTY-THREE
Stress, Stress, Stress
January 2014
“You have a lot on your plate, Kelsi,” Dr. Passey cautions, leaning back in his chair. “Planning a big wedding, making jewelry, and running a business? Stress will make your symptoms worse, so be aware of that. How are you managing?”
“I’m doing okay.”
He raises an eyebrow. “It would be understandable if you were struggling with things right now.”
After all these years working with Dr. Passey, he knows I’m not being honest with him. I take a deep breath. “I’m not doing okay.” As the words leave my mouth, I feel a wave of relief and clutch at my sweater as tears flow.
He pushes a tissue box closer to me, and I grab one. “I can’t shut the video reel off. It’s like I try to do something good, and my brain attacks me with reminders of the Op over and over. I can’t live like this. It’s like a horror movie in my head. I know I chose to join the Army and to deploy, but I had no idea how much it would mess me up.”
“Most people don’t realize what it’s like overseas for military personnel.” He hands me another tissue. “But you’re working your way through this, and you’re going to be okay.”
“I just wish I could shut it off. Planning the wedding is fun, and I’m actually selling my jewelry from the website Brady built, and at the store here locally that’s carrying it. Life is good, but now that I feel things, I feel too much. I can’t tell you which is worse, me feeling nothing at all to now being out there in the world, happy and working, and then slipping into pain and becoming completely hollow. It’s scary because I don’t know who I am.”
“It’s a process, Kelsi. We just have to work a bit more on managing your stress.”
“I was a mess when I had nothing to do, and now I’m a mess with too much to do. I can’t win.”
The frustration doesn’t leave me for the rest of the day, and while Dr. Passey’s words are reassuring, it feels like it’s been too long and too much of a struggle. Every moment at home is coated in anger, even as I scrub away at the grease-splattered backsplash and then scrape each plate off before loading it into the dishwasher.
“I said I’d do those,” Brady calls from the couch.
“Yeah, I know you did,” I mutter, “and you didn’t do them.”
“I was going to, but I wanted to sit down for a minute first.”
I snatch our glasses and utensils from the counter with such a speed that they clang against one another.
“And I need them to be done now, so I’m doing them.” I’m angry at the dishes, the store clerk, car drivers, heck, I’m even angry that Tuck is at my feet. Most importantly, I’m angry at myself, this boggled brain of mine. “It’s not a big deal, Brady.”
“Sorry, Roo.”
I noisily finish stacking everything and switch the dishwasher on before joining Brady on the couch.
“Kels, is everything okay?”
I lower my head. I want to apologize, but I can’t. Not yet. I hate that I keep blowing up at him over nothing.
“Hey…” He rubs my hand. “What’s going on?”
When I put my head on his shoulder, he wraps his arm around me. “When you wanna talk, we can talk, okay?”
Tuck joins us on the couch, and we just sit there for a few minutes before I finally speak. Quietly, I say, “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“I think the stress of the wedding and everything has me really overwhelmed, and I’m getting triggered like I was in the beginning.”
“Have you talked to the doctor about this?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“It’s always going to be important for me to reduce my stressors and recognize my triggers, and I’m trying, but it’s a lot right now.”
“We’ll get through it.”
“You still love me, right?”
“I still love you.”
“You’re never going to leave me?”
“I’m never going to leave you. We’re like Lego pieces. We just fit together.” Brady kisses me on the forehead, and I melt into him. Every rise and fall of his chest behind me is another reason for me to keep breathing.
Lover
Know who else is never going to leave you?
Me.
And I’m going to ruin your marriage.
Watch me.
In the months that follow, Brady and I have a beautiful wedding with all of our favorite people there supporting us. I’m spending my days making jewelry, and I’m keeping up my weekly visits with Dr. Passey and Dr. Mok. I also give Brady the surprise of his life when I tell him we’re expecting a baby.
For our first ultrasound, Brady comes along, and we are so excited to get a peek at this little creature living in my belly. I’m ready to burst because my bladder is so full for the test, but it’s not the first time in my life I’ve been uncomfortable, and I know it won’t be the last.
Brady squeezes my hand, and the ultrasound technician rubs cold jelly on my stomach. She moves her instrument around, and I distract myself from having to pee by trying to make out the shape of a baby on the ultrasound screen.
“Is everything okay?” Brady notices the technician is having a hard time finding something.
“It’s still quite early to see anything,” she explains. “How about you come back next week when the baby is a bit larger?”
We leave without a photo, but the whole experience opens a new door—there is life inside of me. Nothing has changed since the day before, nothing that anyone can see. Brady and I walk through a crowded lobby passing a man in a turban, and I barely notice. We get stuck in a traffic jam with people honking their horns, and I just smile softly and hold his hand tighter. Everything I’ve gone through in my life was worth it, if that’s what was required to bring me to this moment.
The following week, I go through the same routine and wait nervously for news that our baby is healthy. It doesn’t matter really, whatever state our child is in—I am a mother, and I will do anything to protect that beating heart inside of me.
“Kelsi.” A nurse stands with the door open to a long hallway. “The doctor would like to see you.”
I take a seat in the little room and text Brady, I think something’s wrong. In that silence, I ponder my entire life, everything I would go through again, five times over, if it means our baby is okay.
My doctor enters the room, places the file onto the desk, and folds her hands. “I’m so sorry to tell you this,” her voice lowers, “but we can’t find a heartbeat. I’m afraid you’ve lost the baby.”
My shoulders fall, and I feel sick as I bring my hands to my stomach, wishing Brady was here. How will we tell our families that there won’t be a baby? Everyone was so excited. This time it isn’t my brain that shuts down. It’s fully awake, taking in his words again and again, trying to make sense of it all. It’s my heart that breaks, and I can’t find my breath.
Fear grips me, more than any panic ever has. And before I know it, darkness spreads through my thoughts, clouding my mind. A montage takes me back to Afghanistan, to places I never wanted to revisit again. I look at my face in the mirror and close my eyes to what I see. I thought this was over for me, but now there is no hope of being saved. It’s. My. Fault.
“What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing, these things happen,” she says gently.
“Was it my medication?”
“No.” His voice lightens. “The good news is that you were able to get pregnant. You’re young and healthy, and it will happen again.”
Loss
This is just what we needed to help you feel
weak again.
I’m back!!
“My nightmares are more vivid and horrible than they ever have been. They’re even worse than the ones I had when I finished my op.” I feel my eyes well up. “Ever since the miscarriage.”
“It’s been a stressful year for you since you lost the baby.” Dr. Passey pushes a box of tissues toward me.
“I know, but I was becoming so hopeful for the future, and I really felt I was getting better.” My foot taps nervously as I fidget with my bracelet. “I just want this to go away. Is that so much to ask?”
“PTSD has a funny way of lying dormant until you feel like you’re moving forward, and then it reaches out and punches you in the face. You’ve come a very long way, Kelsi.”
“But I feel like I stepped right back to where I started when the doctor gave me that news. It was like a dagger into my world.”
“But remember the good thing?”
I shrug. “What’s that?”
“You feel. You cry. You love. You wanted that so much, and it hasn’t left you. It’s just that all the good feelings are stronger, but all of the bad feelings or hard times are also now harder. With no emotion, you kind of operate at this middle baseline with very little variation, but that has changed for you.”
“I’m really trying, but I have two moods; either nothing goes wrong and the world is lovely, or something triggers me and my brain goes dead.”
“I think it’s time to try medical marijuana, Kelsi. You’re trying to get pregnant, and it will be safer for you to use during pregnancy than other pharmaceuticals. Many of my patients are having great success with it.”
“Actually, I’ve been doing some research, and I think it might be time to give it a try. Screw the stigma.”
Boo-Hoo
You didn’t actually think you could be a parent,
did you?
What are your qualifications?
Weak.
Loser.
That’s not going to cut it, is it?
I’m never going away.
Never. Are you prepared to live with me forever?
TWENTY-FOUR
The New People
June 2015
After cleaning up some brass casings from the front deck of our new home, which, I am aware, makes me look like a crazy person, I decide to take a walk down the street to where a moving truck has been parked all day and introduce myself to our new neighbor.
We just moved into this cul-de-sac, and I’m starting to recognize the people who live here now. It seems to be a tight-knit little community, and I love how everyone has kids and seems to be so friendly.
I push Gould’s Oakleys up onto my head, knock on the door of my new neighbor’s house, and a woman with dark brown hair answers. “Can I help you?”
